


A Seed Planted

by HighlandYorkie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlandYorkie/pseuds/HighlandYorkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on how it all began</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Seed Planted

It had been a rough year or so for the dwarves as they continued to drift further afield, leaving the nightmare of what had become of the Lonely Mountain behind them, their new home in the Blue Mountains gave most a sense of peace but for some what was past could never be forgotten.

Dwalin continued to lead raiding parties against any orc’s encampments they came across, the young dwarf maturing with each and every battle as he honed his considerable skills even further.

His smile while all too brief was always a joy to see, moreso as he recounted tales of the battles to the even younger dwarves not yet old enough but still more than willing to join him.

His slightly older brother Balin concentrated his days on doing his best to maintain a tight grip on what merge finances the wandering nation had much to the chagrin of some dwarves who couldn’t understand why they were not allowed to have that recently forged doubled headed axe.

"But Balin just think of the damage I could do with that beauty in these hands" Dwalin complained as he tried for the seventeenth time that day and the three hundredth since it had been forged to get Balin to give him the axe.

"Aye you would do a fair bit of damage that is certain but I know for sure that many a human blacksmith will pay us handsomely for that self same axe, as long as it remains unbloodied and true"

Unable to falter Balins logic Dwalin wandered off in search of trouble, something he was certain to find one way or another.

Balin sighed heavily as he returned his attention to the pile of papers before him, his brother had been born after the sacking of Erebor and yet he wore it’s fate like a cloak but still Balin often worried that Dwalin would get himself or Thorin into more trouble than they could ever handle that is if Thorin could ever shake off the sense of grief that followed him like a cloud.

Thorin had yet again hidden himself away from family and friends alike. Finding solace in one of the many forges, his thoughts tormented by yet again by images he could not forget. 

In his tortured mind Erebor still burned beneath the fire of the dragon Smaug and he replayed the deaths of his father and grandfather over and over unable to forgot or more importantly forgive.

As he sat there forlornly he failed to notice the old man that had sat opposite him.

"You know there is no use blaming yourself for things you could not control"

"I let them die, I’ve failed my people" he bemoaned as the melancholy he often felt over took him once more

"There was nothing you could do to stop the dragon once it had decided to attack both Dale and Erebor, you did the right thing by leading your people to safety. As for the deaths of your forebears, did you swing the blade that killed either of them….no you did not so stop this foolishness and start behaving like the King you are..instead of acting like a abandoned princess"

Thorin jumped to his feet, his eyes aflame with the anger that haunted him.

"How dare you speak to me like that old man, whoever you are"

"I am simply telling you the truth, which is why you react so strongly." the old man smiled and gestured to Thorin to sit down once more

"As for my name, it is Gandalf and I am here to offer you counsel Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, grandson of Thror"

"Gandalf, that name is one that is not entirely unfamiliar to me. I’ve heard it before but cannot place where"

Gandalf smiled and took out his pipe.

"I have a suggestion to make Master Oakenshield, why don’t you take those that wish it and head towards Bree, I’ve heard they have a liking for Dwarven steel and the skills of Dwarven blacksmiths"

"Bree, you say" Thorin pondered the words the old man had said, and as he did so he accepted the pipe offered in an act of friendship

After a few moments silence, Thorin nodded as he drew on the pipe.

"We shall move out first thing, I never did feel quite right here even amongst my own kith and kin"

The old man smiled once more and as he took back his pipe he muttered words in a tongue far older than anything Middle Earth had heard.

"Sleep now Thorin and forget me but not my words…go to Bree"

Suddenly overcome with weariness Thorin’s vision blurred and his eyes closed as he fell into a deep magical induced sleep.

As he slumbered he muttered the word

"Bree"


End file.
